For the past two days, I’ve been washing and sorting boxes upon boxes of baby and toddler clothes to give away. These tiny fabrics enrobed my two daughters when they were tiny, when they were carefree, when they looked at me as though I were the very air they breathed. Oh the memories in each little sleeper I carefully fold…I can almost see their small sweet faces, giggling with each other while they play and grow and imagine how life would one day be … and now suddenly they are teenagers, desperately trying to find their place in this treacherously confusing life. God if it were only as simple as this again…as simple as feeding and changing diapers and just holding them until the crying stops…

I find myself setting aside certain items: the hat Kaela wore when her toddler toes ran through the Cape May sand, the polka dot dress Bayley used to love to wear with her striped tights… Soon my pile to keep is taller than my pile to give. But why am I keeping these? Their grown faces flash in front of me and I know I am desperately trying to hang on to the memories of joy at it’s simplest. But my girls won’t be babies again. They will never again be the carefree toddlers running through our yard and finding worms to bring home. They will never again line up their toy animals on the basement stairs…And it’s okay for me to mourn that. But rather than grasping at piles of old clothes—rather than holding their memories tight-fisted and melancholy—I decide in this moment to smile over who my girls once were, and find excitement in who they are becoming. And these clothes—these dresses, these sweaters and hats—they can enrobe new littles with a whole new set of sweet memories to be made. Just like mine.

So I carefully refold each item and place them back in the boxes to be given away. With each fold I pray for new blessings, new babies, new memories—wherever these precious fabrics may end up. And as for me and my daughters, well, maybe they do still giggle together from time to time, and dream of how life will one day be. And maybe—just maybe—it’s still sometimes as simple as just holding them until the crying stops.